


Guns Hidden Under Our Petticoats

by Damalia (Achrya)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anxiety, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Smut, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Issues, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Underage Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-12 19:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7119145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertholdt left home and hasn't been back for over two years but his brother's wedding means he no longer has a choice in the matter.  An impulsive moment makes things worse when he promises to show up with a date, something he very much doesn't have. Lucky for him his roommates know a guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quarter Life Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> This story is has a surprising amount of angst considering the trope. Bertholdt is a little ball of anxiety, bad decisions, and regrets. 
> 
> Title comes from a line from Chocolate, by 1975

Bertholdt did not, as a general rule, talk to his family often and when he did it was always through his brother Marcel and occasionally his sister Sarah. At 24, and with three year of college under his belt, he’d successfully managed to not speak to his parents once in the past two years and it went without saying that he was a happier person for it. It wasn’t even hard to do since his parents weren’t any more inclined to speak to him then he was to speak to them. 

He had, after all, moved to the other side of the country to avoid them and they were still furious about it. 

If he could had managed to just keep doing that forever he didn’t think he would have minded much but Marcel had gone and gotten engaged. At first he’d been happy for his brother but then had come the call asking if he’d be the best man which he’d very quickly turned down. He couldn’t even fathom why his brother would ask him and not one of his many friends, except that maybe their parents had put him up to it. 

In which case Bertholdt had done him a favor in refusing.

An unopened invitation and a few terse phone calls later, where he’d gotten the feeling Marcel wanted to say something but was holding back, and things started to spin out of control. First came Marcel bluntly asking if he intended to come to the wedding at all and Bertholdt doing his best to dance around the ‘no’ he wanted to say. He loved Marcel; his brother had always been there for him when he could, sat by him silently in the dark when everything got to be too much, visited when the rest of the family was pretending he didn’t exist, and had put himself between Bertholdt and their parents ire more times than he could begin to count. 

Marcel had been his buffer and shield for most of his life and he deserved much better than Bertholdt for a brother. 

They’d danced around the issue for about a month with Bertholdt coming up with reasons he might be unable to make it and Marcel shooting them all down. Finally he’d just come clean, explaining quietly that he didn’t want to ruin his wedding which was surely what would happen if he showed up. If he couldn’t give Marcel anything he’d give him a drama-less day, unmarred by silly family shit and that Bertholdt was a constant disappointment. Also because he was a coward and not even his love for his brother would get him back in that fucking house to face his mother and father alone. 

And he would be alone. Marcel had other things to deal with and couldn’t be expected to play his white knight anymore, even if he offered to do so without a thought. 

A few months of silence came after that and then his mother had started calling. He avoided answering like his life depended on it. He had no idea what she could possibly want and, frankly, he didn’t care. If it was all that important Marcel or Sarah would have called. 

And *that* thinking was exactly why he was in trouble now. Skype had started chiming on his and when he’d looked he saw it was his sister. They weren’t close (he was pretty sure she hated him, actually) but he didn’t hesitate in answering. He wasn’t as good a person as Marcel but he did his best and that meant not ignoring his younger sister when she might need him. Their parents demanded perfection and when their demands weren’t meant they could become...harsh. 

It had been a lot to deal with when he’d been 1 of 3 but Sarah was all by herself in the house now. He couldn’t imagine being their parent’s sole focus all the time and when he tried it made him feel panicked and breathless. 

Which, coincidently, was exactly how he felt when he answered the call and found not his sister but his mother in all her severe looking glory. Her hair, dark brown with far more gray than he remembered, was pulled into a tight bun, her deep set hazel eyes expressionless, and her mouth was set into a frown; the new lines she’d gained around it made her look somehow even more disdainful. They looked a lot alike, actually, with the same large crooked nose, medium olive skin, and mouth. 

The similarities ended there. Or at least he hoped they did. 

He drew in a surprised breath before he could stop himself and her eyes narrowed. It was a familiar opening; him wide eyed and twitching as he considered the best way to get out of whatever was coming and her looking like the very sight of him filled her with a disappointment so deep he couldn’t hope to ever correct his. His stomach sank and his eyes darted down to the trackpad. Was it too late to just-

“Bert.” He looked up at the sound of Marcel’s voice. His brother had entered the camera’s view and was standing behind their mother with a hand on her shoulder. Confused shock rolled over Bertholdt then settled in the back of his throat with the sour taste of betrayal. He was familiar with that particular emotion. “Don’t end the call. Mother wants to talk to you. Please.” 

He blinked against a hot prickling behind his eyes and looked down again. He owed Marcel and, like or or not, he’d already been seen. Ending the call now would be running away and, while he had no qualms about such a thing (he’d run when he left for college and would continue to do so for as long as it took.) he didn’t want Marcel to see him do it. 

She sighed as if in pain, eyes cutting to the side. “Your father and I would very much like you to attend and take part in the wedding. This is an important moment for your brother and, as he starts his new life with Rayna, it would seem...prudent for all of us to start over.” 

He was fairly certain she wanted to do nothing of the sort. He spared a moment to wonder what Marcel must have given up to get her to say something so blatantly out of character then shook it off. 

“I...it’s ten days away. I couldn’t get a ticket-”

“Your father and I will cover your ticket. Don’t worry about the expense.” Marcel cleared his throat and she sighed. “We would pay for any guest you decided to bring as well.” 

He blinked again. “Guest.” 

He almost glanced at the couch where he knew Jean and Marco were sitting, just out of sight of him and the computer’s camera. They were his only real friends and the only people he’d consider taking anywhere but why-

“Of course. No doubt after all that time out  _ there _ you’ve managed to meet someone who would suffice as a date.” The tilt of her mouth said she didn’t believe there was anyone in the world who could possibly tolerate him long enough for something like that. He bristled at the implication even though it was completely true. “If you do wish to bring someone we will need to know in advance so we can set aside time to brief her on our traditions and make sure she has proper attire and-”

Marcel was glowering down at her and Bertholdt’s mouth had dropped open but their mother gave no indication she’d notice. Not that she’d ever appeared to really notice or care about anything that didn’t mesh with her plans. He grit his teeth for a moment as her chatter about what would need to be done before speaking. 

What he’d wanted to say was ‘there is absolutely no way I’m coming, I have things to do and, also, I’d rather dig out my own eyes with nothing but my fingers’. 

What he actually said was “I’m sure I could manage to bring him up to speed and find him a suit without your help.”

Or he thought he was the one who said that. It sounded like him, except angrier, which wasn’t all that much like him. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d raised his voice with either of his parents and all of those had involved outside influences.  

She stopped talking and for a moment there was only silence; even the soft sounds from the movie Jean and Marco were supposed to be watching were gone. Even he was shocked at his words but, more than that, at his mother’s reaction. He’d never rendered her silent or so much as caused her to break her stride (and he’d been caught doing a lot of things he regretted when he looked back on them) but now she was pinched and visibly startled. 

Probably imagining the way their extended family would react to him showing up with a man as his date. 

Marcel was the one who broke the silence, smiling broadly and leaning closer. “So you’ll come then? You and you .boyfriend?” Their mother looked like someone had just squeezed a lemon into her eye. “It won’t be right without you, Bert.” 

His brother’s expression was distressingly hopeful. Just looking at him made Bertholdt feel like he was being crushed under a tremendous weight; is throat was tight, his stomach was clenching painfully, and his lungs felt as if they were being twisted around. Marcel, who’d never asked him for a single thing but had always given, was looking at him like he held the key to his happiness.

He couldn’t say no. 

“Yes.” 

Marcel’s smile cut him deep and left all the things he’d buried deep inside open to the air. “Great! You’ll be here on the third then?”

The date in the corner of the screen proclaimed it to be the 30th. The wedding was the 10th. That meant at least an entire week in the company of his family. His hands, slick with cold sweat, curled into fists against his thighs. 

“I’m looking forward to meeting this boyfriend.” Marcel continued and of course he was. He poked at the subject when they talked, expressed worry about Bertholdt being alone or (and this was always added quietly while his brother watched him with an expression that spoke of pain and regret) that he was afraid to meet people. 

He meant well. Marcel was all about good intentions and roads paved with gold. An angry part of Bertholdt thought it must be easy to do the right thing when you didn’t have to be there to witness the fallout. 

“As am I.” His mother said. Composure had been regained and there was something cold and calculating to the way her eyes were sweeping over him. “I’m sure  _ everyone _ will be.”

It sounded a little like a threat. 

They exchanged a few more words, or his mother and Marcel did while he stared at them blankly, finishing with a promise to send him credit card information to book tickets. He shut the laptop with unneeded force then, after setting it aside, dropped his head into his hands. 

What had he just done? 

“So that’s your mother?” Jean’s voice broke the silence. He peeked through his fingers; the other two men had gone so quiet he’d forgotten they were even in the room, tucked away in the corner of the couch under a blanket. “She seems...nice.” 

He let out a rough bark of laughter then sat up straighter while pulling his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know how to tell his roommate that, actually, that had been nice for her. 

“You really going?” Jean asked. He was stretched out between Marco’s legs, head resting on his boyfriend’s chest, but the peaceful expression he’d been wearing before the call was a thing of the past. 

“Yeah I guess.” He nodded hesitantly, heart jumping at Jean’s unveiled anger. 

“Fuck-”

Marco nudged his boyfriend, who glared up at him flatly but bit back the rest of what he was going to say,  then smiled kindly. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

There was a moment of confusion and then he groaned. “I’m not. I just...she know I’m not- all that stuff about me bringing a girl and-it-” 

He stopped and allowed himself a moment of self-assessment. It helped a lot in moments like this, when he felt overwhelmed and couldn’t get the right words out. He was what? Angry. Betrayed. Scared. Anxious. Unsure. 

Those were normal. It was okay to feel that way. 

He was in the living room of his apartment. He was safe there. Everything was...not fine, but that was okay too. 

His fingers tapped against his leg and when he opened his eyes again Jean and Marco were sitting and waiting. They knew him and his quirks and moods well; they were concerned, he could read it on their faces, but they would wait as long as they needed for him to feel comfortable. 

He felt a familiar pang of guilt; he hated that they had to be so careful with him, walking on eggshells and handling him like he might just break if they pressed to hard. But he appreciated it nonetheless and sometimes he even managed to see it not as pity but as friendship and understanding. 

“I was just trying to get under her skin I guess.” 

Jean’s snorted softly. “I can’t imagine why you would have wanted to do that.” 

He almost smiled back with humor he didn’t feel. Moving her to silence had been satisfying in the moment but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. “It was dumb. Now I have to show up without someone.” 

She would, no doubt, tell his father and the minute he showed up alone they would know it had just been a childish lie to get at her. And Marcel would no doubt be disappointed to hear that. He’d be the bad guy once again and his parents would just be the exasperated victims forced to deal with his issues. 

Everything would be just like it had always been 

“So show up with someone.” Jean pushed himself up so he was sitting up fully. “Someone that you parents would normally never let anywhere near them.”

He started to say no but stopped, the idea wiggling into his brain. He imagined his mother’s face, blank with shock again, and the way his father’s forehead would wrinkle with poorly suppressed anger as he was forced to associate with Bertholdt’s ‘boyfriend’. There was some very real allure to that, a dark angry guilty temptation, and that wasn’t like him at all. He was the problem child but he’d never flaunted his actions in their face. When he got found out he’d always bowed his head and accepted their punishment as meekly as possible, well aware that it was deserved. 

Taking someone with him for the sole purpose of bothering them would be the exact opposite of that. 

But. 

“Who would I show up with? We already established I’m not seeing anyone.” 

Jean waved a hand as if to physically banish his words. “So we find someone.” 

“Someone who wants to go to the other side of the country on short notice to be picked apart by my parents and family while pretending to be my boyfriend and doesn’t mind that their sole appeal is that they’re someone my parents would hate.” He deadpanned. “Where do I find someone like-” 

He turned his attention to Marco from Jean. Marco with his hair pulled back in a messy bun, with tattoos all over his skin, perpetually dirt and grease stained hands, threadbare comic and cartoon inspired shirts, and rusty pickup. Marco who’d minored in philosophy and had encouraged Jean to ditch a reasonable pursuit of a teaching degree in order to major in art and took the time to make sure the people around him were happy and comfortable with no regard to ‘appearances’ and was ‘sort of’ Jewish. 

His parents would hate Marco. 

Jean must have caught his look because he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no. If you’re leaving for a week there is no way I’m letting you take Marco with you when he could be here, fucking me on every available surface. Twice” 

“Jean!” 

“I hope you plan to sanitize everything.” Bertholdt smiled at Jean’s filthy grin and Marco’s exasperated sigh. “You could both come. Poly relationships would probably cause an aneurysm. And the house is huge, lots of places to defile.” 

And he would know.

“Or I could put out an ad.” He continued. “Seeking man, age 22 to 26, to bother my traditional parents by playing my boyfriend. Free airfare, room, food, a new suit, and all the open judgement of every choice you’ve ever made you can stand. Please don’t be a psycho. Unless you’re the family murdering kind. Willing to pay. Bonus if you’re ‘scary’.” 

The family murdering might have been excessive. 

Marco opened his mouth then shut it with a click, brows furrowing. “I think I know someone.” 

Jean twisted around to look at him fully. “Who?”

“Reiner?”

Bertholdt couldn’t see Jean’s face but he saw the way his back went rigid and heard his soft exhale. “Reiner.” 


	2. Flying High

Bertholdt fidgeted in his seat, fingers drumming on the tabletop in an uneasy rhythm. A nervous sweat was beading in his forehead and making his shirt stick to his back; he hated it. He hadn't felt like this, nervous enough that he felt like he might be sick, in years. Not, he thought idly, since he'd moved across the country and outside of his parents’ grasp. With freedom had come some relief from that constant feeling of not being good enough and fear of failure that had plagued him all his life.

Not that he'd become a different person overnight. There had been nearly six years of work to be less of a mess who didn't fall apart when things didn't go like he needed them to go but moving away had made the greatest difference. That and meeting Jean and Marco.

He liked to think he'd put the panicked and often unhappy person he'd once been far behind him along with all of his less than stellar coping methods.

But not nearly far enough it seemed. Just knowing he'd be back home, in the same house with his parents, in less than a day was messing with his head. He felt like his brain was buzzing constantly and a heavy weight was settling on his chest. It was like being a teenager all over again. That he was waiting for someone he didn't know in hopes they'd agree to play his boyfriend for a week, and to fly from California to North Carolina on such short notice, didn't help. He couldn't help but focus on all the potential ways it could wrong.

The guy could be all wrong, in spite of Jean and Marco's insistence that their friend was perfect. He could decide he didn't want to go. He could be an obvious creep which, while he wanted someone to pretend to be a creep, he didn't want to deal with for real. Maybe he'd turn out to be a shit actor and no one would buy it. Hell, maybe Bertholdt was a shit actor and, honestly, he had...an unfortunate history with men (he hesitated to call it dating and that was kind of the problem) so he wouldn't have been surprised if his family was skeptical about him having a boyfriend.

Jean's plan was...an iffy one but showing up all alone, after all but telling his mother he'd be bringing someone, would be worse.

“There they are.” Marco perked up in his seat and pointed out the window. Bertholdt turned to follow his finger. A car had pulled in front of the diner, sliding into the spot next to Marco’s pickup, and two blonds spilled out.

One was a woman, petite with her pale hair tied back into a ponytail with a red ribbon, wearing heavy looking black boots, a floral skirt, and an oversized hooded sweatshirt. She regarded the diner with a severe frown before pushing her door shut and turning to look at her companion.

The other, who must have been his ‘date’, looked to be almost as tall as Bertholdt was but where he was what some people may have called ‘wiry’ the blond man was...big. Thick neck, broad chest, arms that looked like they were all rippling muscle, thick legs that his frayed and tattered jeans were all but painted onto, and very big hands. His t-shirt, which boasted a portrait of a long necked zombified woman that he would have called beautiful if not for the vivid purple pallor, peeling skin, and blood smeared mouth, had the sleeves torn off which let Bertholdt very clearly see the ink crawling over his arms. On the left it was what looked like creeping ivy all black and gray with spots of red that looked like flowers, going from shoulder to elbow. The right was vivid colors and images, overlapping and blending together from shoulder to wrist.

Before he could get a good look at the right arm the man was shrugging on a coat the woman tossed to him. Bertholdt turned his focus upwards, deciding it was probably for the best he didn’t keep staring at those arms anyway, and looked at the black and gray ink that started on the side of his neck and scrolled under the collar of his shirt.

He looked away as the pair ambled towards the entrance and turned his attention across the table to Marco and Jean. Who weren't even bothering to hide how smug they were, the jackasses. He rolled his eyes, refusing to give them the satisfaction of admitting their friend might work. Sure, he looked like the kind of person his parents would cross the street at the sight of (terrible, judgmental people that they were) but there was more to it than that.

Jean rolled his eyes back but, before he could be subjected to any of his roommate’s patented brand of charm, Marco's was standing up.

“Thanks for this.”

“No problem.” The woman said, lips quirking into a half smile. “Getting rid of Reiner for a week is worth driving for.”

Marco snorted as he swept her into a hug that took her off her feet. When she was back on her feet she leaned into the booth to hug Jean as well, muttering something that sounded a lot like ‘Hi asshole’. Her companion hugged Marco, thumped Jean on the shoulder, then glanced down at Bertholdt. He smiled easily, golden eyes warm and curious, and Bertholdt felt a flush creeping up his face as he realized that, actually, their friend was...not unattractive.

Up close he could see that his ears were both lined with piercings, one with a bar in the shell connected to a chain that lead to a stud in the lobe and the other ear dotted with hoops and studs from top to bottom. There were two small round black studs under his lip, one on the left and the other on the right, and a matching stud above his upper lip, right in the middle.

“Right, so,” Marco said once he'd settled back into the booth next to Jean with the woman on his other side and the blond man on the seat next Bertholdt. “Bertholdt, this is Reiner and his sister Annie, who is probably here to make sure you don't look like a serial killer. Reiner and Annie, Jean's roommate Bertholdt who needs someone to upset his vaguely homophobic and generally awful parents.”

Bertholdt was tempted to laugh at ‘vaguely’ but the way Reiner’s was looking at him, still smiling with his head tilted to the side in question, was distracting.

“Your solution to your parents being jerks is to provoke them with a ‘scary’ boyfriend? Not that I’m judging you, Marco made them sound awful and I’m always fine with messing with jerks, but some people might think just laying low was smarter."

It probably was smarter but there was a part of Bertholdt that didn’t want to do the smart thing. He’d tried being ‘good’ and doing the best he could to please his family more times than he could count but it had never done any good. Doing the opposite had never helped either but at least he’d felt better about it.  

”…it was Jean’s idea, actually.“ He glanced at his roommate as he said it and was graced with a overwhelmingly bored look.

Reiner nodded. "Sounds like a Jean idea.”

“Calling you was my idea.” Marco offered, drawing a snicker from Annie.

“Of course it was.”

“How would this work? Marco explained it but I figure we should understand each other and what you want here.” Reiner asked as he turned to face him.

“Work?” Bertholdt echoed, blinking. He hadn’t thought much about the details, hadn’t really had time to with how last minute everything was and wondering about what kind of person Reiner was going to be. “Well, my parents are covering the plane tickets and we’ll stay at their house. There will be some ‘pre-wedding’ things we’ll have to deal with of course. Rehearsal dinner, a family brunch, stuff like that.”

He’d been part of his older cousin’s wedding, as an usher, and he remembered it had been exhausting even at 14. The Hoovers didn’t just get married, they had elaborate drawn out spectacles for, as far as he could tell, no good reason.

“And I guess I need you to...you know. Make my parents wish they’d just left me alone like they’ve been doing. I’m not really sure what that involves but I guess we can make it up as we go?” He shrugged as he spoke. Honestly Reiner’s presence alone and his parents having to deal with the whole ‘openly gay’ thing was probably going to be enough to make them regret having him attend.

Anything more than that was just icing on the cake.

The very attractive cake.

...maybe too attractive? Would it be cause problems if he thought his fake boyfriend was hot? He couldn’t see why it would, if anything that would just make it look more real wouldn’t it? And it wasn’t as if he was the sort of person to get silly crushes or, even if he did, to lose his head over it.

“Basically I fly out with you, play terrible boyfriend in various ways for a week, get really drunk and embarrassing at the wedding as is standard for terrible boyfriends, and get a decent vacation out of the deal?”

Jean flinched minutely but didn’t skip a beat in the conversation he was starting up with Marco and Annie. If he hadn’t expected it he probably wouldn’t have noticed that or the way Marco’s hand settled over Jean’s on the table top.

Bertholdt frowned slightly. “Maybe not getting drunk at the wedding. I don’t want to mess it up for my brother, just...get under my parent’s skin. A lot.”

That got him a nod of understanding. “What are your parents like? Any pet peeves I should try to really emphasize or things they’d approve of I should look out for?”

Bertholdt hummed, eyes falling down to his milkshake. Other than their constant disapproval of everything he did, and of himself in general, and desire for everything to always look good to outsiders he couldn’t really say much about what they did or didn’t like. Again, Reiner’s very presence would probably negate any chance at good will or getting along so it didn’t matter much.

“They’re going to ask a lot of questions and be ‘politely’ rude.” He said finally. “Causal judgment and picking people apart is my dad’s favorite thing. He’ll make you feel bad about being born if you let him.”

Reiner’s smile was sharp around the edges; a not entirely unpleasant chill ran down Bertholdt’s spine. “Sounds fun.”

Reiner had a strange idea of fun but maybe that was for the best. If he was able to actually had fun while suffering through the week with Bertholdt’s family then it would relieve his guilt about subjecting Reiner to that mess.

And why was he already approaching this like he’d decided on taking Reiner? Not that he had any other options, aside from going alone and dealing with the fallout from it. He wasn’t going to find someone else on such short notice and even if he could Reiner was already vetted by Marco and Jean, the people he trusted most in the world. He was confident they wouldn’t steer him wrong or set him up with someone unsafe.

Honestly they cared way too much about him and his well being for him to doubt their judgement.

And this way he’d have something nice to look at and, maybe, someone to talk to so he wouldn’t be completely on his own.

“I don’t know about fun.” Bertholdt said, smiling faintly. “But if you’re not scared off there’s a flight early tomorrow, if that works for you. I would appreciate it.”

Reiner’s nodded again. “Sounds good. Consider me your boyfriend.”

Bertholdt felt his face warming up at those words for some odd reason and looked away quickly to divert his attention to his phone where he’d already searched for a flight. “Okay. Great. Um, let’s just. Get these tickets then.”

He thought he saw Marco and Jean exchanging smirks from the corner of his eye but when he focused on them both were laughing quietly at something Annie was telling them.

\---

He’d been a little worried about how early the flight was when he learned that Reiner and Annie lived about 90 minutes from the airport but he’d been assured that it would be a problem. True to his word when Marco pulled up to the curb in front of the sign for the airline they’d be flying with Reiner was standing there, a backpack slung over one shoulder and a duffel bag at his feet. He’d traded his pants for shorts and his boots for worn high tops but his shirt was similar to the one before, another image of a beautiful zombie woman, though this one had what looked like intestine hanging from her bloody mouth.

Bertholdt’s parents were going to love that.

Marco hopped out and ambled over to talk to Reiner while Bertholdt grabbed his bags and, by the time he joined them on the curb, the blond man was looking strangely pensive. He waved off Bertholdt asking if he was okay with a yawn, explaining he was just tired. That made sense to him so, after suffering through a hug from Jean (one of the few people in the world he would accept one from) and promising a serious faced Marco he wouldn’t let his parents ‘fuck him up like last time’ they headed into the airport.

They didn’t talk much as they checked their bags and found their gate but, once they were on the plane and in the air Reiner broke the silence with an appreciative sigh.

“I think I could get used to first class.” He stretched his legs out in front of him as he spoke, looking almost mystified by all the room. “Remind me to thank your parents.”

Bertholdt had decided on the most expensive tickets he could get, non-stop first class, and Reiner had happily agreed that if it came up he’d accept the influencing him to go that route. He’d also arranged to rent a luxury car, with his mother’s permission and credit card numbers, for the week. He didn’t really plan to do much driving during the week but he wasn’t looking forward to someone picking them up at the airport and the long uncomfortable drive to the house and...well, he seemed to have an unfortunate passive aggressive streak he hadn’t fully realized was there.

He nodded then pointed at Reiner’s shirt. “You’re a zombie fan?”

He cringed internally; that sounded stupid. He wasn’t good at small talk, he’d never really got the point of it, but they had about five hours in the air ahead of them, and then a week aside from that, so he figured he needed to at least attempt it. That was, after all, what people did right?

“Hmm? Oh.” He looked down at what he was wearing as if seeing it for the first time. “I’m a fan of free things. I play roadie for Annie’s band sometimes and they pay me in food and t-shirts. Annie’s girlfriend said this is absolutely what I should wear to meet your parent the first time.”

“Annie’s girlfriend sounds smart.”

“Mina would agree with that. Loudly. And often.” The corner of Reiner’s mouth lifted as he said it. “She also thinks we should work on a cover story, like how we met and how long we’ve been dating, and make sure we understand the ‘boundaries’.”

“Boundaries? LIke what?”

Annie’s girlfriend did sound pretty smart; they did need a story for when his family inevitably started prying into all the corners of his life since he’d last seen them. They would have to have all of that covered and in sync if they were going to pull this off. But he wasn’t sure what boundaries they’d need to go over.

“You know, pda and stuff. Hand holding, yes or no? Do we kiss? Touch when we’re close, get cuddly and gross in front of your parents? Fake having loud sex at night?” Reiner listed things off on his fingers as he went through them.

Bertholdt stared at Reiner, mouth slightly agape then swallowed thickly. “I hadn’t really...considered any of that.”

He should have though, if they were going to make it look real. Those were normal relationship things, if Marco and Jean (his only real example of ‘normal’) were anything to go by, but his ‘relationships’ had mostly consisted of sneaking around and ignoring each other when people were around so that was all a little out of his wheelhouse.

Which was to say nothing of the thought of kissing Reiner, which was now featuring very prominently in his head so thank for that, Annie’s girlfriend. He wondered what it would be like with those piercings. Different? The same as kissing anyone else? It seemed like it would be weird but maybe not. Reiner wouldn't have them if they hindered things, right?

“Mina also suggested I should give you a hickey before we get to your parents place. Somewhere they’ll see it but without being super obvious.” Bertholdt bit his lip hard and something heavy settled in his stomach. Reiner shrugged. “That might be a little much though.”

“Let’s just...stick to the cover story for now.” 

Reiner nodded then launched into his suggestion of them having met through Marco. Bertholdt listened with half an ear but mostly watched how Reiner's eyes lit up with amusement as he spun his (frankly ridiculous) story and considered, for a moment, that maybe this was going to be a problem.

"Sir?" He glanced up to see a flight attendant, a petite blond man with a ready smile, looking down at him. "Would you like a drink? We have soda, water, coffee, tea, and various wines, beers, and spirits." 

He licked his lips. Wine sounded nice but, then, when didn't it? Just a glass or two, to calm his nerves before he had to deal with his parents...and maybe not now, but after they landed. Reiner could drive and he could work on not being an anxious mess, something wine would help with immensely. It had always helped, more than anything else had even come close to, and he could practically taste it on his tongue. 

Bertholdt smiled. "Water please." 


	3. The Devil Went Down to Georgia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *checks to make sure slow burn wasn't one of the tags here* Ah good good. 
> 
> The editing on this is going to be suuuuper suspect because written on my phone. I apologize in advance but I didn't want to make you all wait a day or two for me to get back to a computer.

Bertholdt was not, as a general rule, a fan of flying. He wasn’t so bad that he needed to take something to get through the trip, thankfully, but he normally put in earbuds, sank low in his seat, and hoped to fall asleep relatively quickly. Being estranged from his family had come with the very real upside of no longer needing to fly anywhere on top of all the other nice benefits like discovering his self worth and not dealing with being treated like crap.

He found, however, that talking to Reiner for the first half of the flight helped keep him distracted from his usual nervousness. Not that he talked nearly as much as the other man did but, thankfully, Reiner seemed to not notice, or care, that he was the one doing most of the talking while Bertholdt listened but also seemed to smile a little more when he did contribute.

They spent time trying to come up with a relatively believable story for how they met and he found himself honestly amused at Reiner’s attempts to ‘make it memorable’. Though, as funny as some of the suggestions were, he had to draw the line at the idea that Reiner had found him so hot that it had been love, or lust, at first sight and that he’d had to spend months wooing him before Berthold had finally succumbed to his considerable charms. There was absolutely no way anyone was going to look at Reiner then look at him and believe the blond had been the one doing the chasing.

When he said as much Reiner made a strange face at him, complete with raised eyebrow and pursed lips, then shrugged and launched into yet another potential scenario. This one involved meeting at the garage Marco worked at, and that Bertholdt sometimes did filing and computer work for in exchange for repairs on his crappy car, and hitting it off. It was simple and to the point, which seemed like the safest bet as far as not getting caught in some absurd lie went, and won his vote.

Reiner made a show of sighing and informing him that he was no fun. Bertholdt nodded solemnly in agreement, drawing a burst of laughter from the other man.

From there they agreed a year sounded like a good amount of time for them to have been dating, that they would play the PDA by ear, and started covering all the things it seemed like they should know after a year. For Bertholdt’s part it went quickly, since he wasn’t exactly doing a lot. He was an English major, worked at a call center and was using vacation days for the first time in fifteen months, and Marco and Jean were just about his only real friends unless people he knew online counted (Reiner seemed to think there was no reason they wouldn’t count.) The amount of time he spent playing video games probably rivaled the amount of time Jean spent doing it.

He briefly talked about his parents and siblings and started to give a list of which members of his extended family to avoid, then gave up when realized that was just about everyone.

He learned that Reiner was two years older than he was and an only child but that he and his cousin Annie had grown up together. She was like the angry, kind of scary younger sister he’d never wanted but couldn’t imagine his life without. He knew Marco because they’d grown up in the same town and, until Reiner had joined the Marines, they’d worked at Leonhart Garage together.

When he’d left the military six years later it was to find Marco basically married to some skinny artist with a shit attitude and well on his way to taking over the garage on day and Annie living thirty minutes outside of LA working on getting her band ‘noticed’. He’d moved in with his cousin and her girlfriends, Mikasa and Mina, (that had gotten a blink out of Bertholdt; Reiner just shrugged.) and now he was her band’s part time muscle/light guy/roadie and going to culinary school. And, he added with a flat look, he always ‘wooed’ his potential dates and for the sake of authenticity Bertholdt was going to have pretend Reiner cooked for him often.

Bertholdt was tempted to ask if he was aware that being able to cook on top of being hot and nice was just really unfair. Instead he settled for blithely informing him that no one in the Hoover house really cooked anything that hadn’t come from the store frozen but they were all fantastic at ordering the best takeout or hiring someone to cook for them.

Reiner laughed before informing him it would be just like home then and then telling him a story about when Mina had tried to cook for Annie on their last anniversary. By the time he was mimicking Annie and Mikasa’s horrified reactions to the charred and half flooded kitchen Berthold was wiping tears from his eyes.

That was followed by a few blackmail worthy stories about Marco as a teenager, all of which Bertholdt listened to with rapt fascination. After one about how the disaster that had been their prom ended with Marco and Annie’s dates making out in the back of the limo he realized they were well over half-way into their flight and that he was actually enjoying himself.

He normally hated dealing with strangers, too busy wondering about what they thought about him and worrying that he wasn’t talking enough or was talking too much or was just being ‘weird’ to be comfortable. Jean was the only other person he could think of that he’d taken too so easily and that was something that still surprised him considering how and when they’d met. But, then again, he could now see that Jean was the sort of person you either immediately bonded with or immediately hated. Bertholdt had been lucky in that he’d found Jean’s bluntness refreshing because he wasn’t sure where he’d be if they hadn’t ended up friends.

Way worse off no doubt.

Even Marco, who was genuinely the sweetest person he had ever met and had been shockingly calm about his boyfriend bringing a fairly messed up Bertholdt home one night, had taken months to feel totally comfortable around. But Reiner...Reiner was easy.

The rest of the flight passed more or less quietly, Reiner deciding to catch some sleep while he could and Bertholdt failing at reading a book he’d brought along. He actually spent what was entirely too much time thinking about the situation that laid before them and asking himself, not for the first time, what he doing flying out to see his family.

It was stupid. He was stupid. Last time he’d been at his parent’s house, two years ago for the holidays, he’d ended up turning tail and running home. He remembered feeling like he was falling apart, stretched thin and so tired, ashamed of himself and feeling so disgustingly weak. He couldn’t believe he was doing it again but, at the same time, he felt like it was something he needed to do.

He desperately wanted to believe that this would be better, that he was better and wouldn’t let himself break, but he didn’t really know.

He was scared to find out.

The announcement that they would be landing soon and to get the cabin ready had him clutching his arm rest and gritting his teeth. He felt like it had happened too fast, that the five hours had slipped through his fingers like so much water, and he wasn’t ready. They were just about at the point of no return and fuck him, he didn’t want to do this.

Why was he doing this?

Reiner groaned quietly next to him then threw his arms up to stretch out. Bertholdt glanced at him and paused when he saw how...soft he looked: hair mussed and falling over his forehead, eyes half lidded and sleepy, shirt riding up to show tanned skin, and mouth open wide around a yawn.

Just. Unfair.

He sat up straight, blinking dazedly at Bertholdt, then smiled and reached over to clap him on the shoulder. “Almost show time. Ready?”

Bertholdt’s heart fluttered; he nodded, mouth too dry to let him form any words.

This was bad.

The first thing he did when they were allowed to switch their phones back from airplane mode and Reiner was busying himself calling Annie to let her know he was still alive, was to fire off a text to Jean.

**Bertholdt: I hate you**

**Bertholdt: So much.**

 

The response was near instant.

 

**Jerk: Have fun with Reiner.**

**Jerk: I hear he puts out after the second date.**

“That’s not true.” Reiner muttered, suddenly much closer than he’d been a second ago, and put a hand back on his shoulder. Bertholdt jumped then pulled the phone close to his chest to hide the screen, mouth opening to explain. Not that he knew what he was going to say but, hopefully, something other than ‘I think Jean and Marco are trying to set us up but that theory is based solely on you being hot’ because that...that would be weird. “First date, if you’re cute enough.”

If he could have somehow sunk into the floor or spontaneously burst into flames the end still would not have come quickly enough.

Reiner jerked back from him abruptly, looking for the life of him like Bertholdt had burst into flames, and mumbled what sounded like an apology before busying himself gathering up his stuff. Bertholdt did the same, shoving his book back into his carry on.

The trip to pick up the rental car seemed tense to Bertholdt and he couldn’t help but feel like the easy closeness from the plane was, if not gone, lessened. Reiner was quiet other than a subdued ‘sounds good’ when Bertholdt asked if wanted to get something to eat before starting the nearly two hour drive to his parent’s house. The where seemed to be up to him so after a little thought he made a choice.

The skeptical way Reiner blinked up at the bright yellow Waffle house sign when they pulled into the parking lot made him smile. The way Reiner complained about it being ‘hotter than Satan’s balls’ as they walked across the lot made him grin harder.

“I thought you grew up in SoCal.”

“It’s different.” Reiner insisted. “That’s just hot. This is like walking through steam.”

Bertholdt laughed. “Welcome to the south. You should be here in August, when it really gets hot.”

“Christ.” Reiner reached around him to pull open the door as he spoke. Bertholdt hesitated for a moment, peering down at Reiner in surprise, then stepped into the cool building. Reiner followed, sighing in relief when the door shut behind him.

They took seats in a booth and Reiner looked over the placemat that served as the restaurant's menu bemusedly. When the waitress came by to take their orders he just followed Bertholdt’s lead and got a waffle plate.

Once the woman had brought them drinks and then left again Reiner cleared his throat, expression schooled into something almost contrite.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with my fail flirting.”

The sweet tea he’d been drinking did a fantastic job of trying to murder him as he choked in surprise and just managed to not spit it out over the table top. Reiner, and probably just about everyone else in the small restaurant, watched him as he coughed and wheezed. Reiner pushed his water towards him, eyes wide in alarm.

“What?” He croaked when he could speak again. He knew he was blushing, which seemed to be happening a lot in Reiner’s presence, and his eyes were still watering. He didn’t even want to think about how he must have looked. “I...what?”

“On the plane? What I said? The date thing.” Reiner’s eyes darted to the side.

Bertholdt sat back in his seat, brow furrowing. “You were flirting?”

“Badly, clearly.” Reiner smiled fleetingly. “And, since you looked like you wanted to bolt, I’m guessing you aren’t interested so I wanted you to know that it won’t happen again. You don’t have to worry about me hitting on you or being a jerk about it.”

That was actually really nice; while it had never been a problem he had he knew there were people out there that took rejection badly. And, considering what they were doing here, he could see where things could get weird if

Wait.

Flirting?

“You were flirting? With me?”

Reiner shook his head his head ruefully. “Wow. I must be really out of practice.”

He looked embarrassed and that was something Bertholdt couldn’t wrap his mind around. That and that Reiner had actually been flirting, with him. And was apologizing for it so that he wouldn’t be worried about him doing it again.

Wherever Jean was he was, without a doubt, feeling very good about himself. Probably Marco too.

Reiner was watching him, more nervous than embarrassed now, and he realized he’d just been staring silently for a few minutes. He sat back in his seat and sucked in a breath. Another breathe and he made himself stop to figure himself out and calm down.

He was confused and nervous and excited. He was in public and felt like he was the center of attention, which he hated but it couldn’t really be avoided and maybe wasn’t true, and he was with Reiner. He supposed he was fine, mostly, for now.

He could handle this.

“Are you okay?” Reiner asked.

He nodded then rubbed at the back of his neck. Sweat was beginning to gather.  “I don’t mind. You flirting, I mean.”

He didn’t know why Reiner would want to but he didn’t mind it. Besides, they were about two hours away from Bertholdt being exposed as a basket case with a family of a made for TV drama so he might as well go along with it before Reiner went running for the hills.

“You don’t mind as in it doesn’t bother you? Or,” Reiner said drawing out the word. “Don’t mind as in might respond well to continued flirting?”

“The second one?”

“Oh good. I was worried you were going to break up with me before we even got to your parent’s house.” Reiner winked playfully and some of the tension that had settled in Bertholdt’s shoulders lifted.

\--

The drive to his parent’s started fine. They talked about video games, culinary school, and Annie’s band which lead to Reiner plugging his phone into the radio and cuing up some music. It was loud, even when it was turned down, and screamy but not bad. They didn’t talk much once the music was going, Reiner humming along more off tune than on, and by the time they were looping back around to stuff he’d already heard they were nearly there and he didn’t feel much like talking. It was taking everything he had to not U-turn and run away.

If Reiner hadn’t been sitting next to him he might have done just that but the prospect of looking like a coward was nearly as bad as facing his parents. He told himself it would be fine, his mother had promised everything would be alright and she wouldn’t do anything to mess up Marcel’s wedding.

She was, after all, proud of his brother and wouldn’t hurt him on purpose. Beyond that she wouldn’t do anything that would make the family look dysfunctional to other people if she could help it. Having him disappear a few days before the wedding would be a major wrench in the happy family image.

Repeating that silently to himself over and over didn’t help much.

He was gripping the wheel far tighter than he needed to and his palms were sweating and, as he eased the car onto the gravel driveway, he felt like he might be sick. He parked behind a sporty looking red car he was willing to guess belonged to his sister or his father, and looked up at the house.

It was a nice house. Big, huge actually, and sitting on a decently sized plot of land, and to most people it probably looked like something out a magazine. Perfectly manicured lawn, tasteful flowers, just the right amount of tree cover along the edge of the property to keep the neighbors and people on the road from getting nosey. Pond in the back that could, in theory, be used for swimming but rarely had, and then a long stretch of flat land and more trees.

To him it was something that had literally appeared in a more than a few nightmares, though not lately. He felt very small looking up at it through the windshield. His stomach was in knots.

“Did you come to a conclusion about the hickey?” Bertholdt tore his eyes from the large house to stare at Reiner, who was the picture of curious innocent, as a lump rose up in his throat. “Because if you were interested now would be the time.”

He swallowed then swallowed again, trying to dislodge the tightness in his throat, mind racing through his options. Not that there were a wealth of options to consider, just yes or no really. Well that and the ugly pinched expression he knew his father would get on his face when he saw Reiner and then saw him sporting a hickey and the way his mother’s eyes would narrow in horror at the thought of other people seeing it.

And, fine, the idea of Reiner’s mouth on him made heat pool low in his gut. But mostly it was about his parents. ...is what he would say if Reiner asked. 

If Jean was here he would tell him to go for it. Marco would spend five minutes talking about his personal comfort and mental well being then, once he was sure no one was having a mental breakdown, he’d tell him to go for it.

He nodded hesitantly; Reiner was out of his seatbelt and leaning across the center console to get closer to him in record time. Bertholdt smiled wobbly.

“Eager?”

He expected Reiner to make a joke or brush the question off but what he got was a heated look and a breathy “Maybe” that sounded a lot like a ‘yes’. The knot in Bertholdt’s stomach tightened and the car was suddenly much smaller and lacking in air. He didn’t get a chance to dwell on that because Reiner was cupping his jaw, rough hands touching his gently, and making him tilt his head to the side.

Reiner surprised him again; he didn’t go right for it but instead pressed his lips lightly to his neck. His breath was warm against his skin and, after another barely there kiss, he nuzzled at a spot just below his ear. It was nice and maddening and Bertholdt’s heart was thumping so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised if Reiner could hear it.

The next kiss was lower, right where the collar of his shirt is. Reiner’s lips parted against his skin and his mouth was wet and hotter than his breath. He bit down lightly and Bertholdt made a noise that was, frankly, slightly mortifying but Reiner’s chuckle seemed more affectionate than mocking.

It was far from the first time someone’s ever left a mark on him, though he can’t think of a time he’d ever approved of it being visible, but the careful touch of teeth and tongue and suction was different from the fumbling frantic heat he was used to. Reiner didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry and, when Bertholdt put a hand on his chest then curled fingers into his t-shirt the only response he got was a large hand curling around the back of his head.

It was worth noting that something like this never would have happened when he was younger. He might have snuck some boys in through his window under the cover of darkness, and thought himself very rebellious while doing so, but in the driveway where anyone could look out the kitchen or living room window and see him?

Never.

A part of him was cringing in fear and another part was delighting in the idea of being seen. Most of his brain was focused on Reiner and how he was leaning against his side, cradling his head, licking over the slightly sore spot on his neck.

“Looks good.” Reiner’s voice was deeper and more hoarse than it had been before. Bertholdt started to reach up to touch his neck then made himself stop. His hand hovered awkwardly for a moment then he nodded jerkily.

His mind was strangely quiet.

“Right. Let’s go introduce you to my family then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Meet the Hoovers. Reiner turns on the charm. ...sort of.


End file.
